


Cross Communications

by Ladiladida



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Denial, F/M, Friendship, Humour, Longing, Oneshot, Romance, Strong Language, drunk strike, frustrated strike, shanker gives Strike an earful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-30 01:37:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladiladida/pseuds/Ladiladida
Summary: Shanker and Cormoran get drunk together and the topic of Robin leads to a heated argument with mortifying consequences.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains very strong language!

It had begun during an arranged thank you pint with Shanker for his once more, rather expensive help. One pint had easily slipped into two and by the end of the evening, Cormoran was nearing his ninth. He was drunk, slurring and feeling very honest, so Shanker had taken advantage to approach his curiosity on what he had seen. A month earlier, he had caught the accidental lingering kiss between Strike and Robin at the Christmas party. He now wondered if his friend had done anything about it. For Shanker was in Strike’s shoes, he’d have hit that already. 

The party had been Robin’s idea and though Strike had been dead against it, another opportunity of feeling those soft lips had been worth it in the end. His body had flushed with that well known recognition of his feelings. The kiss had ended as soon as it had begun, only this time he hadn’t apologised... and she’d even smiled, but nothing further was said. Since then, he’d been battling his inner turmoil and imagine all sorts of things involving the two of them. Robin meanwhile had casually alluded it to the festive season and Ilsa’s insistence on mistletoe. Needless to say, when approaching the topic of the viewed kiss, Shanker unleashed Strike’s honesty. The fuddled drunken logic of how amazing she was, how lucky he was just to have nearly killed her on the stairs and the importance of maintaining the status quo.

“Come on Bunsen, don’t be a tosser! I thought you’d have got your act together at her wedding, but no... even after she left that twat... how long ago? Six months! You’re not right in the head!”  
“I’m not talking about it anymore, mate.” Cormoran slurred, patting his old friend on the shoulder. “It’s complicated.”  
“Nah it ain’t. You’re just a dozy cunt who can’t make up his mind!” Shanker replied, downing his whisky and the pair agreed to part ways on his final comment of “you’ll fucking regret it though.”

Stumbling home, Strike was irked by Shanker. Though his friend had been joking, the comments were at his expense and his pride felt oddly wounded by insinuations that he was a coward. Plus, he didn’t want to admit it, but Shanker was right. He really hated Shanker sometimes. Taking out his phone, he texted his friend.

Strike  
You might’ve known me a lng time Shanker but you dnt knew me.

Shanker  
Fuck off and go to bed Bunsen!

Strike  
Your a prick somtimes!

Robin  
Are you free to talk? I’ve been doing some digging on Grayson?

Shanker  
I second what I said, you’re a dozy cunt!

Strike  
Hi Robin, will tuxt wen in. Been to puub.

Shanker  
See, you can’t answer it because you know I’m right! You can’t make up your fucking mind, it’s hilarious!

Robin  
Okay. I might suggest a coffee!

Strike  
I do, if I had my way I’d be in bed with Robin and not talking to you you fucking tosser!

........

Robin  
Cormoran, I don’t think that was for me.

Oh fuck!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best characterisation, just some humour. Thank you for the lovely responses so far.

Cormoran stared at Robin’s text for a good five minutes. The mortification at his mistake shot straight to his brain, but the alcohol wouldn’t quite let him think clearly.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He thought, what do I do?!?!?!?!

Just then his phone chimed a text alert.

Robin  
Cormoran?

Strike  
Hello Robin

That’s all he could think to reply.

Robin  
Are you home? I can ring you.

Strike  
No need, we’ll talk tomorrow. X

Shit he didn’t mean to put a kiss at the end. 

Robin  
Cormoran are you okay? What was all that about?

Strike  
Just banter with Shanker, no need to worry! Bad joke! Sorry!

For ten minutes there was nothing, Cormoran glanced at his watch, it was 9.45pm. At 9.52, he was worried by her lack of response.

Strike  
We weren’t being derogatory.

Had he spelt that right? He couldn’t be sure. His phone pinged.

Shanker  
Wasn’t being hard on you Bunsen, you’re just a dickhead sometimes.

Oh fuck off Shanker, he thought.

10.09pm, still no text from Robin. Strike was panicking so much now he was feeling the sobering beer fear torturing him acutely. 

Strike  
Robin I’m so sorry!

If she didn’t answer to that, he would ring and bear all the embarrassment. 

10.26 became 10.35 and before he knew it it was pushing eleven o’clock. His courage to ring her wouldn’t rise, he still didn’t feel enough command over his speech and thought. 

Incoming call: Robin

“Hello?” Strike answered cautiously, trying to steady his voice

“It’s me, I’m downstairs.”

“Why?” He blurted, terrified.

“Because I want to talk to you.” She replied in a way that masked her feelings, she just sounded neutral. 

“Let yourself in... I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Good idea.” She replied and hung up. Cormoran filled the kettle and flicked the switch. As it started to boil he heard her footsteps nearing the door of his flat. His heart lurched and he felt sick. When she entered and put her bag down, he rose quickly and shuffled straight to the kettle. It wasn’t quite boiled but he clicked it off and started making the drinks.

“You shouldn’t have come out this late.” He remarked, his hands trembling. At this time of night, she had very little makeup on and her hair was up in a ponytail.

“Some things are best sorted in person.” She replied casually, he stirred her tea and held it out to her. But by this point she’d seated herself, so he made a steady trip towards her.

“How much did you drink?”

“Pardon?” 

“How much did you have tonight?”

“Oh... just a few pints...” he tried to be casual, his coffee was too hot to drink yet and his mind was still a touch foggy.

“So when we’re out drinking and you’re pissed, how many pints does it take for you to say you’d rather be in bed with Nick?” She asked, seeming serious.

“It’s never got to that stage.”

“Well I haven’t seen you drink nine pints.”

“How do you know it was nine...”

“I texted Shanker and asked...”

“Oh...”

Strike took a deep swig of his coffee, not caring that it still burnt the roof of his mouth.

“Robin, I’m so sorry!” He said, rubbing a hand down his face. “They go on at me sometimes...”

“They?”

“No not they... him... Shanker...” He babbled.

“Shanker mentions us a lot?”

“Not exactly...”

“Just Shanker?”

“No one really...”

“Cormoran!” She said both amused and exasperated, “Tell me what the bloody hell is going on?”

“Well.... I suppose... the long and short of it is... I like you...”


	3. Chapter 3

Einstein said that time was a relative concept, Cormoran Strike had not ever spent a lot of time contemplating the theorist. But in between tripping over his own words and now lying on his bed, with Robin on top of him and kissing him madly, he couldn’t quite account for it. Cormoran found no issue with the kissing, not at all, he just wasn’t sure at what point he’d become the luckiest bastard going.

“I know this isn’t quite what you meant to Shanker...” Robin murmured against his lips before continuing to kiss him, her hands buried deep in his hair, his roaming freely over her body. They were both fully clothed, Robin still had her coat on, though Cormoran had at least unbuttoned it since the kissing started.  
“Jesus Christ Ellacott.” Was all he managed to reply, her hips instinctively yet not intentionally grinding against his pelvis, the strain of his need evident.

_“So when we agreed that that kiss at the party...” Robin had said, now the one stammering._   
_“We came to an agreement?”_   
_“A silent one...”_   
_“I resigned to nothing happening cos I thought...”_   
_“So did I!” She said, her eyes widening and voice desperate._   
_“Ah... right...”_   
_“Cormoran...”_   
_There’d been a pause where the looked at each other, something clicked in his mind, his logic told him the time to bury was gone._   
_“Fuck it!”_

Somehow Robin had removed her coat without much of an interruption to their kissing. For Cormoran, he gave a impassioned groan against her lips as Robin’s still clothed curves were further revealed to him.  
“Cormoran?” Robin mumbled against his lips.  
“Hmmhmm.”  
“We’re not just going to fuck and then forget this are we?”  
“Bloody hell no... do you have any idea how long I’ve...”  
“I have an idea...” she laughed.  
“Right well... for my sanity... let’s just keep it at this... nothing else... I don’t want you to think... fuck it!”  
“What?”  
“Too much talking.” He growled quietly.  
“Shanker said that you loved me.”  
Cormoran stopped now, head pulled back and he looked at her.  
“He said what?”  
“That you loved me... do you?”  
“He’s a fucking dickhead but he’s not wrong... I do... I love you...”  
“Well, he wasn’t quite as eloquent...”  
“What exactly did he say?” Cormoran was worried, Robin broke out into a smile. Leaning forward she cupped his ear and whispered it.  
“Jesus Christ, Shanker you bellend!”  
Robin however continued to laugh as she pulled him back down for a kiss.


End file.
